


You Will Find Each Other

by rubberglue



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 04:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubberglue/pseuds/rubberglue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon AU. Gwen and Merlin live happily in Ealdor until an attack brings the arrogant Prince Arthur to their village and into their lives. Everything changes after that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this [fanvid by toufinus](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dbgl2fEbLqY). Written for Jhing for her birthday.

He flashed a quick grin at the two serving girls who stood at the edge of the training ground and let his dagger fly. It hit the shield Pete was carrying with a satisfying thwack. The girls squealed and his knights laughed and hooted. Pete cowed behind the shield, face as white as sheet.

“Come on! You’re barely moving. I said to run the length of the field! Don’t make me make you train for this tonight.”

“Sire!”

It was Leon again, probably about to remind him sternly that he was supposed to be training with the knights. With a wave of his arm, he dismissed Pete and sauntered to Leon. 

“Don’t you get tired of acting the fool? You are supposed to be sparring with your knights.”

“Did my father send you to check on me?” 

Leon ignored his question. “I don’t understand why you are acting this way Sire.”

“Maybe you should ask my father,” snapped Arthur as memories of his father berating him in front of the council rose in his mind. “He’s the one who said that servants were not worth our time or effort. And don’t forget he pointed out that aside from wielding a sword fairly competently, I don’t have any of the attributes of a good ruler.”

“You know he didn’t mean all that. He was just upset that -”

Arthur stabbed his sword into the ground. “I don’t want to talk about it. I know I’m not good enough. Why even try? Tell my father I’ve gone to the tavern to relax. That’s something I’m good at, as he pointed out.”

Arthur didn’t make it to the tavern, not that he expected to. He knew his father would get the knights to haul him back to the castle. Despite his bravado in front of Leon, as he stood facing his angry father in the throne room, fear threatened to choke him. He loved his father but recently, nothing he did was enough and he was tired of constantly being put down in front of the council. If his father thought he was a good-for-nothing, then that is what he would be.

“I am tired of your nonsense, Arthur.”

Arthur said nothing and stared sullenly at his father. 

“I have something I want you to do. There have been reports of bandit activity at the borders of Camelot and Essetir. I want you to ride to the borders to see what is happening. Talk to the villagers. I fear that Cenred might be using bandit attacks as a cover for something more.”

“Why not send Leon and his men? I’m sure they are more than capable -”

“Are you questioning your king, Arthur?” The cold edge in Uther’s voice shut Arthur up and he bowed his head. “I want you to go so you will go. Leon and Rowan will accompany you.”

Arthur nodded, annoyance churning in him. This was clearly a punishment for his behaviour over the past week. It didn’t matter. He would visit all these border villages and enjoy being away from his father and Camelot for a few weeks. How difficult could this be?

+

“Gwen! I tore my shirt. Can you fix it?” Little Annie ran into Gwen’s house and shoved her shirt at her. Smiling, Gwen ruffled her hair and took the shirt.

“Of course Annie. Come back and get it tomorrow?” Annie nodded then scampered off. Probably to play with the other children since the sun was up and the weather mild, thought Gwen as she dropped the shirt into the basket full of clothes to mend. 

Passing her a mug of tea, Merlin sighed as he settled down next to her. “Really Gwen. You can’t keep doing all these repairs for free. How will you earn your keep?”

“Thank you. I don’t need much anyway and it’s only for the children. I do charge the adults.”

“Right,” said Merlin knowingly. Gwen just smiled. Living in a small village which only barely managed to produce just enough food to sustain them meant that money was hard to come by. As long as she had enough to eat, Gwen was perfectly willing to work for free. 

“Your mom doesn’t disapprove.”

“That’s because she’s as soft a touch as you. It’s amazes me that she’s the leader of Ealdor.”

Gwen shoved Merlin affectionately. “Stop complaining about your mother. She’s been a great leader.”

He chuckled. “I’ve been ordered by our great leader to pick some herbs. Want to keep me company?”

With the morning sun shining warmly on their backs, they chatted happily, arm in arm, as they walked through the forest. This was home and she loved it. Many of her friends had ambitions to move to Camelot, where, she was told, everything was exciting and the roads were paved with gold. Occasionally Gwen would wonder what it would be like to live in Camelot, amongst the nobles, but then she’d remember Merlin, the forest she grew up playing in and the various people who took care of her after her parents’ death and she’d ask herself how she could ever think of leaving this place.

“I heard, from a very reputable source, that Simon has plans to court you.” Merlin bumped her shoulder with affection. “It’s about time you think about settling down, as my mother would say.”

“I have a house and a job. I think I’m quite settled.” Still, she couldn’t help the blush that stained her cheeks. Simon was a lovely man, kind and sweet, and she was flattered that he was interested in her. On days when she had less chores to do, she imagined building a life with him. She would be happy she thought. Perhaps she should invite him over for dinner one evening.

Merlin was the first one to notice something wrong. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her up from her where she was sitting, the flowers in her hand spilling to the ground. “Fire,” he said as he started to run. Her heart in her mouth, her mind whirling, she stumbled behind Merlin.

Fire could only mean one thing - Ealdor was under attack.


	2. One

The biggest problem facing the first few villages Arthur visited was their crops being eaten by various forms of wildlife. He listened to the villagers and their petty complaints - the well was too far from their homes, the taxes were too high, the lack of help during the previous drought - smiled and said he would speak to the King and then promptly forgot about them. He grumbled constantly about the pointlessness of the entire trip - did his father actually think all these simple villagers would actually know anything about any of the political machinations of Cenred?

“Where are we off to next? I hope they are able to provide us with more suitable lodgings.” While he had lots of experience sleeping on forest floors, Arthur didn’t see why he had to sleep on hard floors in a village. Surely they had beds. 

“There are rumours that Ealdor is going to be attacked so we’re thinking of heading there first.”

Arthur perked up. An actual attack might just be the cure to this boredom that was afflicting him. His father had been quite clear about the fact that he didn’t want Arthur to launch himself directly into any conflict with Cenred but he had said nothing about getting involved in a bandit attack. Energised by the thought of rescuing a whole village, Arthur spurred his horse on, leaving Leon and Rowan staring in surprise at his sudden enthusiasm.

It was something of an anti-climax that halfway in the journey to Ealdor, his horse couldn’t keep up the pace he demanded and they had to stop for a rest. As Tarrento lapped at the stream, Arthur sat around with Leon and Rowan, listening to them discuss the situation at the borders. Had there not been news of Ealdor’s attack, they would have quite easily assumed that the rumours were unfounded. Even now, both Leon and Rowan seemed skeptical that the attacks were instigated by Cenred, especially since it was just a short year ago that Camelot had easily crushed Cenred’s advancing army and helped herself to the land they were now visiting. 

From a distance, Arthur could see large plumes of smoke rising from the village. Screams of terror punctuated by harsh shouts travelled to his ears. Adrenalin rose in him and he nudged Tarrento faster. 

“Come on!” He yelled at Leon and Rowan. 

The scene that greeted him made him sick. In the previous war against Cenred, there were casualties but they were all knights and soldiers, people who had been prepared for war and death. This time, the bleeding were farmers, children, women - people who didn’t deserve to be caught up in a battle like this. Anger boiled in him - who were these people who felt it was fine to kill so indiscriminately - and he charged forward, easily disarming the first bandit he came across before stabbing him in the chest. Leon and Rowan followed suit but they were outnumbered, Arthur realised with horror when he heard the sounds of more hooves clattering against the hardened ground. 

Then, two villagers came rushing into the town behind him. As Arthur watched them, the male raised his hand and muttered something and a few of the bandits immediately fell off their horses, making it easy for Rowan to quickly secure them. Arthur stared in shock at the skinny young man for a brief moment, his father’s rants against the evils of magic ringing in his ears. 

“Behind you!” The woman standing next to the young man shouted and Arthur turned to see another bandit bearing down on him. 

Between the skinny man’s magic, help from the other villagers and Arthur and his knights, the bandits were quickly rounded up. As Leon kept an eye on the surviving bandits, Arthur surveyed the village and the damaged done. Many of their fields were burning, the injured and the dead lay scattered around the small village square where most of fighting had taken place. A strange feeling came over him - terror, helplessness, guilt all rolled into one. 

"Are you going to help or not?" The curt voice cut into his thoughts and he swung around. Squatting over an injured man was the same person who had yelled at him earlier. 

Before he could move to help, Rowan stopped him. "You're injured sire!" And true enough, when he glanced down, a red stain was seeping through his armor. "You!" Rowan gestured to the young woman who had just snapped at him. “Come here and tend to him.”

The woman frowned at them, disapproval written all over her face. “His injuries can wait. There are people who are suffering more.”

Unsurprisingly, this incurred Rowan’s wrath and he immediately moved towards her. “This here is the prince and his well-being trumps anybody else -”

As he watched her eyes flash with anger, Arthur quickly placed a hand on Rowan, stilling him. “I’m fine and she is right. There are people who need aid more than me. It is merely a scratch. Why don’t you see if you can find anymore survivors?”

Rowan bowed and left. 

It was considerably more than a scratch - every move he made hurt - but he knew it wasn’t life-threatening. Not now anyway. Settling himself down on a nearby log, he groaned, causing the woman to glance in concern at him. He grimaced. She looked away and continued to fuss over the man lying in front of her. Her magic friend too was working frantically on someone else. Villagers who could still move or weren’t too badly injured all helped in some way - collecting water, bringing out cloth for bandages, looking for survivors, putting out the small fires that still burned.

Arthur stared at the woman. She fascinated him for some reason. It wasn’t her looks - some of the servants in the castle were more beautiful than her. Perhaps it was the determination in her eyes, her calm demeanor in the face of such brutality and pain. Maybe it was because she didn’t seem to care that the prince of Camelot was sitting a few feet from her. 

Contemplating her was preferable to contemplating what he had just witnessed.

+

Gwen knew Callum was going to die. The wound was too serious and he was losing blood at an alarming rate. So she knelt beside him, stroked his hair and muttered words of comfort. 

“Gwen,” he breathed shakily. “I’m fine. Go tend to the others. Tell Martha I love her.”

Tears in her eyes, Gwen squeezed his hand before trying to make sure he was as comfortable as he could be on the ground. With one last look at him, she moved to the next casualty, keenly aware that if she and Merlin had not been out in the forest, she could have been one of those lying here in the makeshift outdoor infirmary.

Someone groaned and she instinctively turned to see the man claiming to be the prince sitting gingerly on a log. Like most people who never stepped foot into the castle walls, she had no idea what the prince looked like but the way he held himself and how arrogant his men were, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was really the prince. For some reason, he kept looking at her and as she tried to help with the injured, she was conscious of his eyes following her. Was he angry that she refused to tend to his injuries? Would this be considered treason? There were stories of how harsh a ruler the King was. It would not come as a surprise that his son would be the same.

Still, she thought as she surveyed the injured, this time, there were only 2 deaths - a far cry from the previous bandit raid when a lot more lives where lost. And she knew this was because of the prince and his two men. As much as she held the king in low regard, Ealdor owed the prince and his men their gratitude.

Once most of the injured were tended to, Gwen walked over to the prince. Merlin was busy helping the other villagers salvage what they could from the burning buildings and crops.

“Let me see your injury.” Her words came out clipped and a lot less polite than she wanted. She expected a reprimand but it did not come.

“You’ll need to help me out of my armor.”

She nodded and silently, they worked to get his armor off him without touching his wound too much. Her hands were shaking as she pulled off his gambeson, revealing his bare skin underneath. The wound wasn’t a mere scratch but it wasn’t all that serious. All it needed was a good wash and some bandages. 

“Don’t move,” she whispered as she dabbed a wet cloth over his wound. He hissed and shifted slightly. “Sorry. But I need to clean it.”

“What’s your name?”

“Guinevere but most people call me Gwen.” She dabbed at the wound some more, trying not to think too much about the smooth, warm skin her fingers kept brushing against. This wasn’t her first time doing this, so why was she feeling so out of sorts?

“Guinevere.” Her name rolled off his tongue smoothly and she shivered in response. It was silly. 

“What’s your name?” Briefly she closed her eyes when those words left her mouth. His proximity managed to unnerve her so much she was asking dumb questions.

He laughed then groaned in pain. “Arthur. Arthur Pendragon. Surely you know who owns your lands.”

“Oh you mean the tyrant who took them from our previous owner, then proceeded to tax us into poverty supposedly because we would have his protection? And then when we report the bandits incursions, we get ignored?” She pulled the bandages tighter, uncaring that the prince was sucking in his breath in pain. 

“We are here, aren’t we?”

“Right, only after we spread the rumour that Cenred was behind - oh.” Clamping one hand over her mouth, she looked up at the prince. She really needed to think more before she talked.

The prince stared at her for a while before saying slowly, disbelievingly, “The rumours were spread so you would get help from Camelot. There is no truth to it? You made us make a trip all the way here because -”

“Because we are your people and we needed your help. When we sent messengers to Camelot to plead for help, we got nothing. Did you expect us to sit here and wait till the bandits completely decimated our village? Are we not your responsibility? Is our safety not your concern? Even Cenred with all his power hunger cared more for us.” She gulped a breath. “Look around us. We pay our taxes. We pledge our loyalty to Camelot but what have you done to us aside from fight on our lands and rip us from Essetir?”

“Have you finished?” If refusing to tend to the prince’s injuries wasn’t considered treason, then ranting at him and insulting him and his father probably was. His hard tone and the way his eyes narrowed as they stared at her didn’t give her much hope otherwise. At least she managed to say to him what she always wanted.

Still, it would hurt to apologise. “I’m sorry Sire. I didn’t mean -”

“I am pretty sure you meant every word.”

Gwen took a deep breath. “Maybe.”

He stood and for a moment, Gwen feared that he was about to call his men over to arrest her. Instead, he stretched out his hand and after hesitating for a while, she placed hers in his and he pulled her up. “Thank you for your care.”

She curtsied because it seemed like the right thing to do. That made him smile slightly before he turned and walked away to where the surviving bandits were held.

“That’s really the prince?” Merlin walked up to her and asked.

“It would appear so.”

“Wow. I guess your plan worked.”

“I guess. Of course I blurted out the whole plan to him so now he knows we lied about Cenred to get them to come.”

“Oh. Maybe they’ll stay anyway to flush out Kanen and his buddies,” suggested Merlin hopefully. 

Gwen watched as the prince spoke to his men who looked upset the more the prince talked. She imagined he was telling them about how they were sent here on false pretences. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”


	3. Two

Rowan was angry. Leon seemed more troubled. Arthur didn’t know what to think. On one hand, he was annoyed that they had been lied to but on the other, how much worse would things have been had they not been here? The sight of the village in ruin, the people either stoically fixing up their village and tending to the wounded or sobbing over their losses tore at him. His father was right - he was inexperienced. He’d fought in wars before but he was never around to see its aftermath.

“We should leave.” Rowan stated flatly. “These lying villagers don’t deserve our help. We need to return to let your father know -”

“I don’t think there is a need to tell the King they lied. We can just inform him that Cenred is not behind the attacks.” Leon pointed out. 

Rowan raised his voice. “If they do not see consequences of their lying to the King, then what is to stop them from doing it again?”

“They lied because we didn’t give them the protection we promised.” Guinevere’s words echoed in Arthur’s head and the guilt that came with them weighed on him. His mind wouldn’t stop thinking about how much worse it could have been if he hadn’t been around. 

“My lord. Surely you understand that -”

He could hear someone sobbing. “No. Don’t tell me that their lives are worthless. Look at them. How can you stand here and claim that they don’t matter? We could have sent a patrol of knights out and sorted it out earlier.” Leon nodded in agreement. “We’ll take the bandits with us and we’ll simply tell my father that the rumours were a mistake.”

Again, Rowan simply bowed and said nothing. As they walked to their horses, bandits in tow, Leon clapped him on the shoulder. “I always knew you had a good heart, my lord.” 

"Are you going already?" Guinevere hurried towards them, the skinny, magic guy in tow. Glancing at Leon and Rowan, it dawned upon Arthur that he was the only person who had noticed the use of magic, something banned in Camelot. By right, Arthur should have him arrested, dragged to Camelot with the bandits and burned at the stake. Just yesterday, he would have no qualms doing so. Today, he was unsure. 

"Yes. We need to return to inform the king that Cenred is not behind the attacks." Rowan scowled behind Leon. 

"If you're here, can't you stay and help us deal with Kanen's group? He'll just attack again when you leave." This time, it was the magic guy who spoke. "Look, I know we lied to get you here but since you're here, what harm can it do to stay a while?"

Both Leon and Rowan looked at him, putting the decision at his feet. In all honesty, he wanted to go home, forget what he witnessed here, go back to living in his world inside the castle walls where he could pretend his biggest problem was whether his father was picking on him or not. His duty here was done. He could return to Camelot, suggest his father send a patrol of knights down to assist the villages. Uncertainty paralyzed him.

Then she spoke, anger lacing her words. "Maybe for once you can actually act like the prince you are. Take some responsibility for your people."

"Don't speak to -" Rowan started but Arthur raised his hand. He remembered his father telling him off in council, going on about how irresponsible he was. In front of him, the tiny woman stared defiantly at him and he had the strangest feeling that refusing to stay would draw not only her ire but also her disppointment. He didn't quite understand why but he didn't want to disappoint her.

"If your village is still under threat, then of course we will stay."

Guinevere's eyes softened at his words and for some reason, that felt like an achievement to him. "Thank you. Once we have settled down, perhaps you can speak to our leader."

It took a while to get everything sorted out - the injured transported to a small barn transformed into a makeshift infirmary and the 2 dead burned at a pyre. Their leader turned out to be the magic guy's mother, Hunith. From her, Arthur learned that Kanen and his men had been making regular incursions into Ealdor and a few other villages, taking anything they could from the villagers. When there was nothing much, they would vent their anger on any unfortunate villager in their way. Needless to say, they all lived in fear, simply waiting for the next attack.

“If we can deal with Kanen directly, cut off their leadership, then I’m sure we will have less trouble with the bandits.” Hunith said. “I am very thankful for your assistance despite our deception. I am sure you can understand we felt that we had little other choice.”

After a short, unexpectedly pleasant, chat with Hunith, Merlin - that was the name of the magic guy - brought them to a small unused house where they were use as their lodgings. There was a single, rickety looking bed. Arthur sighed, still uncertain if he had made the right decision to stay. 

“Get to bed,” he said. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

+

Lying to the king was an offense punishable by death so Gwen spent most of the day waiting for the sword to fall, for the prince to insist that she be arrested and punished. But instead, he and his men were sleeping in a house a short distance from hers, having promised Hunith that they would do what they could to deal with Kanen. One moment, she was certain the prince was selfish and uncaring and the next, she wasn’t so sure anymore. 

“They weren’t too impressed with the lodgings,” said Merlin as he walked into her home. “The prince kept looking strangely at me. I hope he didn’t -”

“If he had, I’m pretty sure he’d have you arrested by now.”

“Yeah. I hope they’ll be able to solve our bandit problem. These past few months have been hell.”

Gwen nodded in agreement. She hated the sliver of hope that had blossomed in her when the prince had agreed to stay - she knew better than to depend on them - but she too fervently wished that she was not about to be bitterly disappointed.

“You should keep your mum company. I think I’m going to take a walk. I’m too full of energy to sleep right now.”

Merlin grinned. “Say hello to Simon for me.”

“Oh hush Merlin.”

Simon had suffered a gash across the chest during the bandits’ raid. His eyes lit up when Gwen visited him and she couldn’t help the blush that spread across her cheeks. Maybe when things were more peaceful, they could build a life together.

“I heard you lied to get them here.”

Gwen smiled. “I did. It worked out quite well, didn’t it?” She couldn’t deny that she was feeling a tinge of pride at the success of her plan.

“It was risky Gwen. You should not be taking such risks.”

“We had to do something. A few more raids and our village would be completely destroyed!” She looked at Simon, only then registering the disapproval on his face. “You don’t think I should have done that.”

“No. Gwen, it was foolish. You’re lucky it worked out. I don’t like you putting yourself in danger like that.”

Shrugging, she replied, “I’m fine now and Ealdor is getting the help she needs. I think it was quite the success.”

“Promise me you won’t put yourself at such risk again. I saw you speak to the prince. You should be more respectful. I worry when you act like that.”

Something about Simon’s reaction rubbed her the wrong way but she couldn’t explain why. Instead, she made some excuse and left the barn. Pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, she made her walk back to her home in the cool evening air. With the houses in silhouette and the air calm, she could almost forget about what happened that day. 

“Guinevere?”

Startled out of her thoughts, she turned to look for the unfamiliar voice. A short distance away stood the prince. Her heart jumped.

“My lord.” Quickly, she slipped into a curtsey.

He walked towards her and she could make out a slight wry smile on his face. “It’s a little late to pretend that you have any respect for me, isn’t it?”

Already annoyed at Simon’s remarks earlier, the prince’s comment only served to rile her up. “It’s hardly my fault you don’t do anything to deserve it. A true prince would have stayed to protect his people without them asking him to.” 

The prince said nothing to her comment. For a while, he simply looked at her. Unnerved by his scrutiny and realising that she might have gone a step too far this time, Gwen’s heart caught in her throat and she kept silent. 

“Tell me Guinevere, in your opinion, what would a good prince be like?”

“It is not my place to tell you what to do.” She thought she heard uncertainty and sincerity in his voice but she couldn’t be sure and so she chose to play it safe.

“Really? It seems to me that you have a lot of ideas about what a good prince is like and of course, I fit none of those ideas.”

“I am sure that is not true. There must be some good in you. You did agree to stay and help us.”

A smile crossed his face briefly. “And now you’re humouring me. You are a strange one Guinevere. One moment you are full of righteous anger and then the next you act as subserviently as every other subject. Which, I wonder, is the real you?”

“I fear that is a question you will never find the answer to.” She curtsied again. “It’s late. I should return home.”

The prince nodded. “Yes. Good night Guinevere.”

“Why do you call me Guinevere? Most people call me Gwen.” Gwen wasn’t sure what possessed her to ask this question. 

“I’m not most people. And I like the way Guinevere sounds - it’s a unique name - much like you. Gwen is too common. Good night Guinevere.”

Without waiting to see if she left, the prince walked off. For some reason, her heart was thumping in her chest and the way he said her name echoed in her ears.


	4. Three

With more confidence than he actually felt, Arthur stood in front of the villagers and addressed them, promising them that he would help them deal with Kanen to the best of their abilities and outlined the plan he thought up in the wee hours of the morning. Most of the villagers listened to him, staring at him with a mixture of awe and hope as if he was their savior. Arthur was certain if he told them to run around naked, they would. It unnerved him. This was how people reacted to his father, not him.

Then he saw her standing amongst the people, a slight frown on her face. So he’s already managed to gain her disapproval. It barely surprised him. He didn’t think there was anything he could do that she wouldn’t find fault with. He wondered what it was this time.

“If we work together, if we stand together, then there is nothing we cannot do. Together, we will stand up to Kanen and his bandits and ensure the future of Ealdor.”

A smattering of applause and a few cheers greeted the end of his speech. Rowan and Leon hurried over, congratulating him on his successful speech but he found himself looking for Guinevere. Surely she would tell him exactly what she thought of it. Something akin to disappointment settled in his stomach when he saw her walk off instead. Shaking his head, he wondered what was wrong with him. It was almost like he wanted to be told off by a peasant. 

“Rowan, go see what their weapon stores are like. Leon, I need the layout of their village. Talk to the people and find out where the bandits usually attack from. I’m going to talk to Hunith.”

It looked like the village had about twenty men who could conceivably wield a sword with some success. Not quite enough to mount a very strong defense, not when almost all were farmers. He was also painfully aware that weapons were probably in short supply. As reality sank in, he started to question his decision to stay - the village might have been better off if he had simply ridden back to Camelot and persuaded his father to send knights to Ealdor. 

“Arthur?”

Shaken out of his thoughts, he saw Guinevere with a group of female villagers standing in front of him. She hadn’t used his title but he let it slip.

“Yes?” He asked warily. There was a glint in Guinevere’s eyes and he figured that he was about to get the telling off he was wishing for earlier. 

“Earlier, you said you would be training the men to fight. The women want to fight too.”

That wasn’t what he was expecting, although to be honest, he wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting. “No.” His response was immediate. 

“Why not? This is our village too. Shouldn’t we be allowed to participate in its defense?”

“Then man the infirmary.” The annoyance that flashed in Guinevere’s eyes signalled that that was the wrong response.

“Yes, some of us can man the infirmary. And the rest of us can fight.” The women with her nodded in agreement. “I doubt we have enough men to fight. We are as capable as any of them. Or do you believe otherwise?”

Her question was a challenge. “You’re right. This is your home and you should fight for it if you so choose. I will be honoured to fight alongside you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She walked away with the others and he stood there and stared at her swaying hips and proud poise, a slight smile on his face. 

There was only one blacksmith in the village - a job he held together with being a small time farmer and occasional candle maker. Arthur didn’t know why that surprised him. It was a good thing he and his men travelled with extra swords but they needed more. John, the blacksmith, farmer and candle maker, looked at Arthur in disbelief as Arthur told him just how many swords he needed made.

“Do the best you can. The more you can produce the better.”

Nodding furiously, John replied. “Yes my lord. I will get my wife to help.”

For the next few hours, Arthur walked around the village with Leon, discussing the best way to lure out and trap Kanen. He left Rowan to train the men and women of the village. The longer he talked to Leon, the bigger the knot of dread in his stomach became. It was going to take a great deal of luck to accomplish what he promised the villagers.

The villagers trained with all they had, practicing the basic steps over and over again, barely taking a break. They poured their heart into it. John and his wife worked non-stop on weapons and some other villagers diligently went about collecting important supplies. The knot grew again. They were so earnest, had so much trust and belief in him and he was just going to let them down. His father’s words drifted into his head, reminding him of how he had no idea what he was doing.

He couldn’t sleep again that night.

“You don’t look like someone who is going to lead us to victory.”

It was magic Merlin. Apparently, no one in Ealdor believed in addressing him by his title, which was just as well as he was about to disappoint them anyway.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It?” Arthur looked up to see Merlin looking at him in concern.

“Whatever is making you so gloomy. Most people say I’m a good listener.”

Perhaps it was the stress of the whole day. Perhaps it was because talking to Rowan and Leon was useless - Rowan hated everything and Leon deferred to him all the time. Whatever it was, he gestured for Merlin to sit next to him.

Most people were right. Merlin was a good listener.

+

His lips were soft, his hands warm and he held her tightly against him. Her own fingers slipped into his hair and -

“Gwen! Give the prince his meal. He’s been training the men since morning.” Hunith gave her a light shove and placed a bowl of gruel in her hands, jolting her out of her very inappropriate thoughts. 

It had been three days since the prince arrived and one day since he kissed her. For the whole morning, her emotions had been all over the place. She had volunteered to help in the kitchen, something she usually disliked, so she didn’t have to face the prince. From the window, she looked out at where the prince was running through drills with the villagers. Before last night, in her eyes, he was little more than an annoying, slightly arrogant prince. Now, she couldn’t stop thinking about how he felt under her hands, the way his body moved and how his eyes were the most beautiful she had ever seen. She should never have agreed to go on that walk with him.

“Go on Gwen. Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes.” Sucking in a deep breath, Gwen walked towards the training ground. It wasn’t long before the prince saw her and he smiled. Her heart jumped and she couldn’t help the smile that spread on her face.

“Take a break. We’ll resume in a while.” His eyes fixed on her, the prince walked towards her and took the bowl from her. “Thank you.”

Tongue tied and desperate to leave his vicinity, she nodded in acknowledgement and turned away. Immediately, his hand curled around her wrist. “Stay a while?”

“I’m busy.” She gestured lamely to Hunith’s home. “There’s a lot more to be done.”

“Sure.” She didn’t move. He smiled again, then reached out to tuck a curl behind her ear. She shivered in response. Why couldn’t she move?

“Go on then.”

Finally, she tore herself away from him and returned to Hunith’s house. 

Gwen had kissed before and most of them had been pleasant. But last night was completely different. The prince pressed her against the tree, his hard thighs between her legs, his tongue tangling with hers. Instead of stopping him, she had let her hands slip under his tunic as she ran them across his torso. More appallingly, she had pressed herself against his thigh in an attempt to ease the ache that was building in her. 

And it all started when he saw her sitting and gazing at the stars outside her house and asked her to walk with him because he couldn’t sleep. She had agreed and he had asked her the same question he did before. What did she think made a good prince? This time, she answered seriously and he listened, encouraging her to say more. The more they spoke, the more comfortable she felt with him. It was odd but he seemed very interested in learning what she thought made a good prince. After all their walking and talking, somehow they ended up at the edge of the forest. 

“You’re smarter than a lot of people I know in the castle.” A hand reached out and pushed her hair from her face. “And beautiful in the moonlight,” he had whispered before he bent and brushed a kiss across her lips. 

She should have pulled away, run back home, done anything except what she actually did which was to reach up and kiss him when he pulled away. The next thing she knew, the rough bark of a tree was pressing into her back, she was kissing him frantically and her hands were under his tunic. It was quite the miracle they had managed to pull away. As if by mutual agreement, they said nothing and walked back to the village in silence.

And now Gwen couldn’t stop thinking about it. She wondered if the prince had the same problem. Here they were, preparing to fight for the survival of their village and her brain wouldn’t stop sending her images of her naked, wrapped around an equally naked prince. 

She was almost relieved when she heard the sound of galloping horses. Rushing out with the rest of the villagers, she stood waiting for Sir Rowan to speak. 

“I’ve news. It appears that Kanen is on the move. I think it will be about two days before he and his men arrive. We need to step up preparations.”

Arthur nodded, his expression unchanged. Only the clench of his jaw gave away his wprry. She wanted to step up and tell him she believed he could do it, that he could lead the villagers to defend Ealdor successfully. Instead, she turned away and walked back to Hunith’s house. 

John worked even harder. The men and women trained more intensely. Not a word was said but everyone understood that they were on the cusp of a battle that would either save or destroy their village, their home. The tension was thick in the air and Gwen could barely breathe.

It did not surprise her when the knock came in the middle of the night. Grabbing her shawl, she opened the door.

The prince held out his hand. “Please? Being with you makes me feel calmer.”

How could she say no?


	5. Four

There were so many things he wanted to say, to ask but he couldn’t find the words. So he made do with having her seated next to him, listening to her breathe. For the first time since he arrived in Ealdor, he slept soundly last night and he knew it was in part due to the woman beside him. The other part was probably due to magic Merlin but he was less keen to think about that. Guinevere, though, intrigued him from the start and now, having practically groped and kissed her last night, he found himself unable to stop thinking about her. Well, her and the upcoming battle, the latter contributing to his general sense of unease. 

“Is something bothering you?” He felt her shift a little to face him. “Are you worried about tomorrow? You’ve done all you can for us and win or lose, we are very grateful.” Her small hand curled around one of his and he slid his fingers against hers, enjoying the feel of her work-roughened hand against his own. 

“Before I came to Ealdor, before I saw what it was like to live in a village like this, I never knew what it meant to be a prince, how my actions, my decisions affected everyone. The only responsibility I had in Camelot was to ensure that the knight’s training went on and the occasional patrol around our lands. And now -” He faltered to a stop. 

“And now you’re responsible for our survival?”

He nodded. “The worst thing is that I’ve realised that my father could have prevented all this. That I might have been able to have prevented all this if I had paid more attention.”

"I am not going to pretend that I'm not terribly disappointed in your father. But you," her hand squeezed his gently, "you don't have to be like him. Your father would not have stayed to train a motley crew of villagers. You did. And your father would not have listened to a lowly peasant and her views of what makes a good prince, much less discuss it with her."

"I want you to see me as a good prince." Until the words tumbled from his lips, he didn’t realise how true they were. He wanted her to look at him the way some of the other villagers did, with appreciation and approval.

Smiling, humor twinkling in her eyes, she grinned at him. "I think you still have a long way to -"

How was he expected to resist her when she looked like this, eyes bright, lips soft, skin glowing in the firelight. Before she could finish, he cupped her face, threaded his fingers through her luxuriant curls and kissed her. After a moments hesitation, her free hand clutched at his shoulder and she kissed him back, her tongue running across his lips, seeking entrance. Groaning, he pulled her closer so that she was sitting on his lap. If he expected her to be shy, nervous, he was completely mistaken. She kissed him as fiercely as he kissed her. Her hands smoothed over his tunic then under it causing him to suck in a breath. 

She wriggled on his lap, on purpose he suspected, and he knew she could feel his arousal throbbing under her. Why was she wearing so many clothes? He wanted to touch her and it didn’t seem fair that her hands were running all over him, under his loose shirt but the only flesh of hers he could feel was her neck and her arms. 

Then she stopped. His heart twisted. She was going to tell him this was a mistake.

“What are we doing?” She was still breathing heavily. There was a trace of desire in her eyes but it was slowly being replaced by concern.

Gently, he slipped his arms around her waist, keeping her on his lap. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re the prince.”

“And you’re Guinevere.” He brushed his lips lightly across hers. “And I want you so much.”

Her laugh puffed against his cheek. “I’m pretty sure you can tell that I want you too. But this is foolish.”

“Maybe we can just kiss.” He smiled at her. Even if she didn’t want to just kiss, he figured he would be perfectly content just to hold her.

Her fingers traced the waist band of his pants before creeping slowly up his stomach. She swallowed. “How many peasant girls can say they kissed the prince?” Then she leaned into him and kissed him, a slow, deep, open-mouthed kiss. Briefly he wondered if she had kissed many people before. She was very good at it, making his heart pound hard and fast. But all his thoughts disappeared the moment she wrapped her hands around his and brought them up to her breasts, whispering touch me into his ear. He obeyed her, a shot of pleasure going through him when she arched into his hands and moaned.

Dropping his head to her bare shoulder, he suckled and licked, enjoying her gasps and moans. His hands kneaded her full breasts while hers began to tug at his tunic. They disentangled for the short moment he needed to pull his shirt off before their hands and bodies met again. Arthur was no innocent. He had had his fair share of females but none of them made him feel this way. None of them made him want to give them as much pleasure as he got from them. But with Guinevere, he wanted to hear her groan, hear her moan, hear her sigh. He wanted to see how she looked when she came.

She wriggled against his hardness again. He shoved her skirts up. She half giggled, half moaned. He smoothed his hands up her thighs until they reached her center. She begged and thrust into his hands. It was a flurry of whispered desperate need, hot breaths, hands that wanted to be everywhere, touch everything and lust. So much lust.

She came, short breaths, eyes squeezed close, shuddering, clenching around the fingers he had buried deep in her. When she collapsed against him, he held her close, stroking her back. He was still painfully aroused yet a sense of satisfaction enveloped him.

“You didn’t -”

He dragged a thumb across her lower lip before kissing her warmly. “It’s ok.”

+

He must have put her to bed because she woke the next morning, alone in her bed. By the time she cleaned up and left her house, the rest of the village was deep in preparation. Most of them were being put through their paces by Sir Leon. Her first thought was to wonder where the prince was. Then, she realised that Merlin was missing as well. Panic rose in her. Had the prince discovered his magic?

“Have you seen the prince?” She asked the first person to pass her who pointed her in the direction of the forest. This wasn’t good. Why would the prince and Merlin be alone, away from the village? She ran. 

“ - magic.”

She was right. They were talking about magic. Quietly she stood some distance away, watching them. For someone whose big, dangerous secret was exposed to the prince, Merlin looked surprisingly at ease, smiling even.

“I don’t know. I have never done anything so big before.”

Gwen frowned. Were they actually discussing Merlin’s magic without any threat of burning?

“You can stop eavesdropping on us Guinevere.” The prince looked in her direction, a slight smile on his face. “Come and join us.”

Warily, she walked towards them.

“Hey Gwen.” 

“Merlin,” she dropped her voice, “should you really be discussing your magic with him?”

The prince must have heard her because she sensed him stiffen. His voice was cool, a stark difference from the one that purred into her ears the night before, when he said, “If you’re worried that I’m about to arrest your friend, then you’re mistaken. I know magic is banned here, supposedly because it is evil but Merlin here seems far from evil.”

“It’s just a tool,” muttered Merlin. “A tool that I’m not very good at using.”

“Your magic will give us an edge in the battle. We need it.” The prince placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “You told me that I needed to believe in myself. You need to believe in yourself too.”

“Yeah ok. You’ll need to tell me your plans.”

“Good.”

For all of the prince’s insecurities, he was amazingly astute at tactics. Gwen listened as he explained to Merlin how exactly he wanted Merlin to use his magic. The prince seemed to have thought through everything thoroughly and oddly, she felt a sense of pride and hope surge through her. He might yet be a good prince.

“Basically, I should stand here and unseat as many bandits as possible? Then follow it up with a wind attack so as to at least reduce visibility?”

The prince frowned. “I just explained in great detail the whole plan and that’s all you caught?”

“The rest is really your responsibility isn’t it?” 

“Thank you for caring so much for your village.”

“I believe this village belongs to your kingdom so -”

“Shut up.”

They squabbled some more about who should care more for Ealdor as Gwen watched with a mix of shock and amusement. Merlin had mentioned speaking to the prince on occasion. When did they have the time to develop such a relationship?

Eventually the fun of squabbling ran out and the prince quite blatantly demanded that Merlin leave them alone. Gwen was about to chide him for doing that when his lips landed on hers and his arms dragged her against him. It was apparent that when it came to him she had no self-control whatsoever. She twined her arms around his neck and opened her mouth so he had better access to her. 

“Arthur,” she breathed as he pulled away.

“I like that. Say my name again.” 

“Arthur.” She smiled at him. 

He leaned his forehead against hers. “I think I like you a lot.”

What did one say to a prince who said that? Gwen didn’t know but she knew her lack of response upset him because his smile faded and he pulled slightly away. 

“Arthur. I -” She wanted to explain - tell him that she was desperately attracted to him but they barely knew each other. And he was royalty. She was merely a peasant in a small village. Realistically, the most she could hope for was to be his mistress. This was a fling. It wasn’t supposed to involve emotions. His declaration didn’t make it easy. But the words wouldn’t form.

The horn blew and they jumped apart.

“They’re on their way. Come on!” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her with him. 

This was it.


	6. Five

“Are you frightened?”

"Not in the slightest." And Guinevere raised her chin and looked him straight in the eye. Like he did with the man before her, he shook her hand even though what he really wanted to do was to pull her into a hug and tell her to hide so there would be no chance of her getting hurt. She would not stand for it, that was for sure. Nodding, he moved on to the next person.

The villagers were as ready as they would ever be but really, he was counting on Merlin to magic them to victory. He remembered Merlin’s words - you’ve just got to believe in them and yourself, because if you don’t, they’ll sense it and the battle will be lost even before it begun - and attempted to look confident as he faced the group of villagers. They all held swords, some with more confidence than others. 

“You all know what needs to be done. We’ve practised it before.” He raised his sword. “For Ealdor!”

Their voices rang out as they chanted after him.

“To your places,” he ordered. As Guinevere walked past him, he grabbed her. “Be careful. Please.” She nodded, then ran off.

With everyone hidden, the village appeared empty. In the distance, as he crouched with Leon and Rowan behind a few bales of hay, he could her the shouts and hooves of the bandits. Just a few more moments and Ealdor would be consumed by battle. 

The clatter of hooves approached and Arthur held his sword tightly. When the first bandit entered from the forest, exactly where Arthur predicted they would come from, and toppled off his horse seemingly for no reason, the pressure on his chest eased slightly. Merlin had come through despite his own misgivings. As soon as Kanen, a large, balding hulk of a man, fell to the ground, Arthur signalled and the battle began. 

They outnumbered the bandits but not by much and they were also very inexperienced. Many fell easily to the bandits, much to Arthur’s dismay and he found himself torn between trying to ensure that the injured were quickly taken off the battlefield and trying to actually engage in a proper fight with the bandits. When yet another person fell, clutching his arm and screaming in pain, Arthur quickly rushed over to distract the bandit as others dragged the injured villager away. He looked around furiously. Where was Merlin? Where was the distraction he was supposed to conjure up?

“Merlin!” 

Then it happened. A huge wind funnel suddenly appeared and with precision that amazed Arthur, it slowly moved, avoiding the villagers as much as possible and easily flattening the bandits. With the bandits off balanced and confused, the villagers found it much easier to regroup and attack. It was with some pride that Arthur watched as these villagers, who just three days before had never held a sword in their hands, much less swing it, grabbed their sudden advantage with gusto.

“Sire!”

He turned towards the voice, sword raised. Behind him stood Kanen. Cursing himself for not paying attention, Arthur ducked the first blow but his surprise meant that he wasn’t quick enough to dodge the second blow. The sword slashed the side of his torso and pain radiated through his body. Instinctively, after years of training, Arthur swung his own sword despite the pain and caught Kanen’s arm. It was enough to distract him and Leon who had yelled the warning, rushed up and quickly dispatched Kanen easily. With their leader gone, taking down the rest of the bandits was done fairly quickly. 

The village looked like it did in the aftermath of the previous battle - small fires, destroyed crops, injured people - but at least now, they knew that Kanen would not be back. Unlike the atmosphere of despair that permeated the village when he first arrived, the village was filled with the chatter of proud and relieved villagers.

Arthur gathered them for a quick speech. The pain in his side seemed to be getting worse but he wanted to congratulate the villagers on a job well done. Perhaps he was speaking too much or with too much excitement but Arthur found it harder and harder to breathe. By the time, he finished his last sentence, he was gulping in air frantically. His head started to swim and his last thought was that he was about to faint.

+

Nothing prepared Gwen for the sheer terror she felt when she watched the prince collapse to the ground. It all seemed to happen in slow motion and yet, she was unable to move. His knights immediately scooped him up and Hunith quickly disbanded the villagers after giving them curt instructions. 

“Gwen?” Merlin hovered by her side, then put his arm around her, squeezing her comfortingly. “It’s probably a combination of exhaustion and the injury. He’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.” Sir Leon and Sir Rowan walked away with the prince, together with Hunith. 

“Why don’t you go with them?”

“No. I wouldn’t be of any use.” Then, remembering what just happened, she turned to Merlin and enveloped him in a hug. “You won it for us! That was amazing. I saw the wind. I never knew -”

“Shh. It felt good - being able to use my magic like that, with the full knowledge of the Prince of Camelot.”

They walked shoulder to shoulder back to the makeshift infirmary. “You need to tell me that story. How did he find out and what was his first reaction?”

“Confused actually. Couldn’t quite understand how someone with magic could be so harmless - those were his words by the way.”

Laughing, Gwen bumped his shoulder. “You are harmless Merlin.”

“Pfft. Didn’t you see what I did just now? I am a veritable fighting machine.”

A while later, after most of the injuries in the infirmary were tended to and the village mostly tidied up, a spontaneous celebration took place in Hunith’s house where there was much drinking (mead stored for the long, harsh winters were dragged out of storage), carousing and dancing. Gwen too found herself partaking in the festivities, a mug of mead in her hands as she twirled around with Merlin.

“May I?”

“Ah. Of course,” Merlin quickly let go of her waist and smiled a knowing smile. Simon took his place.

For a while, they danced in silence. Three days ago, Gwen would have been happy. She would have smiled and dropped her head gently on Simon’s shoulder and dream of the time when he would ask her to share his life. Now she thought of how his hands didn’t span her waist with enough strength, how he wasn’t tall enough and how being so close to him, she didn’t feel a surge of heat and desire.

She wondered how the prince was. 

“I just remembered something. Sorry.” 

Despite the rousing rabble within Hunith’s house, the night outside was silent with the occasional sounds from the forest. She had dashed out in such a hurry that she had forgotten her shawl but she didn’t feel like going back for it. 

Stopping at the prince’s lodgings, she peered through the half-open door, her heart clenching at the sight of him lying on the bed, wrapped in bandages. Slowly, she made her way in, easing herself onto the bed next to him and watching the way his chest rose and fell.

A bit of his bandage had come loose. At least that was what she told herself when she reached out to touch him. It had nothing to do with the urge to touch him that seemed to overwhelm her whenever he was near. As gently as possible, she tucked the bandage in and smoothed it out, savouring the feel of his bare skin against her fingers.

His eyelids flickered and he opened his eyes.

“Guinevere.”

“Arthur.”

“How are you? Were you hurt?”

She shook her head. “But you were. How does it feel?”

He lifted himself up slightly and grimaced. “It’s not too bad. I’ve had worse. Come here.”

Gwen leaned towards him and they fell into a hug. Which turned into gentle kisses, with Arthur nipping her lips. Then, the kisses deepened and the next thing she knew, she was straddling him, her hair falling all over his face before he dragged her down for more kisses.

She spent the night curled in his embrace.

+

The sound of people talking woke her up. Her vision still burred by sleep, she slowly made her way to the to door, where Arthur stood on the other side talking to his knights.

“Tomorrow. My injury should have healed sufficiently to make the journey back.”

Gwen’s heart dropped but she chided herself for being foolish. Did she think that the prince would spend more time than he needed to in this tiny village? She turned from the door and picked up her clothes that they had discarded carelessly on the floor last night, pulling them on. While she had known from the very beginning that whatever she had with the prince would be short, temporary, nothing more than a physical connection, it didn’t stop the disappointment and hurt that spread through her. The door creaked and Gwen quickly schooled her face. It was bad enough that she had gotten attached to the prince that his leaving hurt. She didn’t need him to know how silly she was being.

“You’re up.” The smile he had on his face was full of warmth and he reached out to her. She avoided his touch but he said nothing although his smile faded a little. “Are you in a hurry? I thought that maybe we could spend the day together.”

“There’s still a lot of cleaning up to do and I’m sure the infirmary needs help. You should rest as well.”

“You could tend to me,” he teased. When she didn’t respond, he walked up to her. “I have to leave tomorrow - go back to Camelot. My father would probably have sent a patrol out after me by now.”

She nodded, annoyed that tears were stinging the back of her eyes. “Of course. Thank you for all your help.”

“Come with me. You don’t have to leave tomorrow. I can send some knights later to ride with you to Camelot.”

Looking up at him, she shook her head. It was so easy for him to say that and she was reminded that the prince, despite his rescue of her village, despite her attraction to him, despite his talk of wanting to be better, was still selfish and unthinking.

“I can’t just leave Ealdor like that. What will I do in Camelot? And what happens when you tire of me? Do I move back here in shame? Am I to give up my life just so we can kiss some more?”

It was clear he had no answers to any of these questions, had never even thought about them. “I - you could be a seamstress there. You could teach me to be a better leader. And I can’t imagine that I will tire of you.”

She sighed, ignoring the pleading in his voice. “And if that doesn’t work out? I can’t leave everything just to be your mistress.”

Shocked coloured his eyes. “No. You won’t just be my mistress.” 

“What will I be? Your wife? Don’t be foolish Arthur. One day, you’ll find your real princess. One day, you’ll be King of Camelot and I cannot be your Queen.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I -”

The conversation was getting too painful. “Arthur, it was a brief fling. A one-time affair. It meant nothing and it will result in nothing.”

“That’s not true.”

“There is someone else in my life.” Every word was a lie and it broke a little bit of her heart to say them.

Arthur tensed at those words and his hurt was plainly written across his face. But he kept quiet, as if waiting for her to continue. So she did. “You need to return to Camelot. Learn to be a good prince. Make Camelot a better place for everyone.” 

“You love him?”

“Yes.”

In a split second, his eyes shuttered and his face hardened. “I suppose sleeping with the prince of Camelot is quite the achievement then.”

She hadn’t realised she was able to hurt even more. The tears threatened to spill but she refused to cry in front of him. “If you don’t mind, I will take my leave Sire. I wish you a safe trip home.”

The rest of the day passed in a haze. She helped with some of the repairs around the village and helped Hunith to take stock of their supplies. At times, she would watch the prince as he went round to talk to the villagers, bitterness rising in her as he seemed unaffected by what happened before.

She was mending some clothes in her home when Merlin walked in and completely destroyed whatever peace she had thought she salvaged from her very bad day.

“You’re leaving Ealdor? To go to Camelot?”

“It’s not forever and I’ll visit.”

This time she couldn’t control her tears and Merlin quickly gathered her into a hug. “I’m so sorry Gwen but my mum thinks it’s time I learnt to use my magic better.”

“In Camelot? Under the nose of the king who burns people who use magic? And the prince knows about your magic. Who is to say he won’t betray you?”

“Mum has been wanting me to go to study under her friend in Camelot for a long time.” Merlin said as he moved the things on her table around, avoiding her gaze. “I guess after that display during the battle, I think she’s decided that it’s time. I think it’s time too. I’ve been playing around with simple magic for a long time. It’s about time I learnt more.”

“And the prince?”

Merlin shrugged. “You know, I thought I wouldn’t like him but I do. Sort of. He can be really annoying and dense but he’s a good person. Do you know he pulled me aside and made me explain my magic in detail to him because he had started having doubts about his father’s stance on it? I used that sword analogy you came up with.” He looked up at her, smiled slightly and continued. “He said that he would keep my magic a secret. I believe him.”

What was there to say? She couldn’t ask Merlin to stay in Ealdor because she didn’t want to lose her best friend. And she knew part of her unhappiness was rooted in selfish jealousy over the fact that Merlin was able to go to Camelot and she couldn’t. So she nodded, tried to smile and spent the rest of the day with him, doing nothing much except soaking in his company.

They lay under the stars in the forest. “What’s between you and the prince?”

“Nothing.”

“Hmmm.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s a prince, Gwen.”

“Don’t you think I don’t know that?”

+

The knock came early in the morning when most of the village was still asleep. Nervously, Gwen grabbed the candlestick from next to her bed and crept to her door. Who would visit her at this time?

It was Arthur.

“Guinevere.” 

“Why are you here?”

He slid a hand into her hair, bent over and kissed her. She knew she shouldn’t respond but it was the last time she would share such intimacy with him. Telling herself that one last kiss couldn’t harm her, she threw herself into it. 

“Here. I want you to have this.” His breath carassed her face and his thumb stroked her swollen lips gently. Then, he took her hand in his and placed something cold and metal in her palm. Gently, he closed her fingers over it. “Maybe when you look at it, you’ll remember our brief fling.” He hesitated, hand still wrapped around her closed fist. “I will be a better prince Guinevere.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead, then he disappeared into the darkness.

Opening her hand, she saw a plain metal band. The words “Arthur Pendragon” were carved on the inside. She closed her hand over it again and closed her eyes, trying to stop her heart from breaking.


	7. Six

“Father thinks that you should raise the taxes in Camelot.”

“There’s no reason to. Supplies are bountiful, thanks to the lovely weather we have been having.”

Mithan’s hand slipped over his. “Surely you should use this opportunity to stock up more?”

“The people should be allowed to enjoy the fruits of their labour. They worked hard for it and we shouldn’t just raise taxes simply because we have a good harvest this year. Don’t worry. I’ve calculated the supplies and even without raising taxes, we should have enough stocked up for the harshest of winters.”

“When I first met you last year, I would never have thought you would grow so quickly to be like this.” She stroked Arthur’s cheek affectionately. “What happened?”

Immediately he shifted from her touch, his heart clenching. “Ealdor happened,” he stated flatly. After all these months and all the upheavals in his life, the thought of those few days in Ealdor still tore at his heart. 

Sensing his unhappiness, Mithian changed the subject. He listened quietly as she spoke about how she spent her morning and her plans for the rest of the day. She was a lovely person, kind, gentle, supportive. She never had a bad word to say about anyone, never was anything but polite to everyone and yet, she was no pushover. Any man would be lucky to have her as his wife. Any king lucky to have her as his queen.

But Arthur didn’t feel lucky.

That night, like every other night, in the privacy of his room, under the cover of darkness, he thought of Guinevere -her smile, her faith in him, her wisdom, her kisses. He let himself imagine that instead of being betrothed to Mithain, he was marrying her. He would let images of the two of them together, tangled in his bed, sharing thoughts about their day, run through his mind. As he stared blindly out of his window, he wondered if she thought about him too.

It had been six months. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had completely forgotten about their fling. Even thinking of those two nights together as just a fling hurt. In the beginning, he had been so tempted to ride back to Ealdor but it was as if the fates were conspiring against him. First his father fell seriously ill, so ill that six months later, he was still bed-ridden and barely conscious and Arthur had little choice but to take over most of the duties. When his letters to Guinevere came back unopened, returned by a pitying Merlin, Arthur had resolved to forget her. Throwing himself into his duties and agreeing to a political marriage, deep down inside, Arthur knew that all these were merely a means of distracting himself from the pain and regret that haunted him every day.

+

Arthur was in the throne room with Mithian, listening to various petitions from his people when Merlin burst in. 

“Arthur!” He skidded to a stop just in front of the thrones, gave a quick nod to Mithian who frowned at his casual use of Arthur’s name, then blurted out news Arthur never wanted to hear. “Ealdor is under attack.”

Panic rose in him but he told himself to stay calm. 

“Arthur? Why don’t you send some knights to investigate? I’m sure Sir Boris -”

“No. I have to go.” He turned to the people gathered in the hall. “I’m sorry but this session is over. If you have any urgent matters, speak to Sir Leon.” 

“Update me.”

As they made their way to Arthur’s chambers, Merlin relayed all the information he knew. 

“Tell Rowan to get the horses ready. Will you be coming?”

“Of course I will,” said Merlin before leaving to prepare for the journey. 

Mithian stilled his hands. “You’re determined to go, aren’t you?”

“I have to Mithian. You don’t understand -”

She looked sadly at him before dropping her hands from his. “I think I do. Be safe. I’ll be here waiting for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. It’s fine. Go rescue your princess.”

“Thank you.” 

They left almost immediately and rode until their horses could take no more. Reluctantly, Arthur ordered them to rest. As his knights made themselves comfortable on the hard forest floor for the night, he sat in front of the fire, a multitude of thoughts jumbled in his head. 

“Here, have something to drink.” Merlin waved the water skin in front of him before settling beside him. “She’ll be fine. I’m sure she will be.”

“What if she’s not?”

“You love her, don’t you?”

Arthur closed his eyes. “It doesn’t matter because nothing will ever happen between us. It’s too late for either of us.”

Expecting Merlin to push him on the subject, like he always did, Arthur was surprised to hear no response. Then he realised how selfish he was being.

“I’m sorry. I forgot about your mum. You must be very worried too.” He punched Merlin on the shoulder. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

“A sign of concern.”

“Next time, can we stick to hugs?”

Arthur glared at Merlin. They might have establish some strange almost friendship over the past six months but Arthur had no intention of hugging Merlin. 

“Or we could just shake hands.” Then Merlin sighed. “Let’s both not be too pessimistic. It’s not going to do us any good.”

+

The bandits had been chased off by the time Arthur arrived at Ealdor and while it was obvious an attack had taken place, it was also obvious that it wasn’t a very serious attack. His heart eased and he smiled when he saw Merlin rush to hug his mother.

“My lord! I didn’t expect you to come as well.” Hunith hurried over to him.

“Well, Ealdor has a special place in my heart now. I’m glad you all managed to deal with the bandits successfully.”

“Oh Sire. They took Guinevere.” 

He tensed. “Who?”

“The bandits. She was at the edge of the village when they came and one of them, the leader I expect, grabbed her. When they fled, they took her with them. Simon went off with some of the others to look for her but there’s no sign of her.”

“No.” 

+

Her hands were bound behind her and she trudged through the forest, sword at her back, with the bandits. She really didn’t want to think of what the bandits were planning to do to her. As she walked, she kept her head high, refusing to show them her fear. 

By now, she was sure Merlin had been informed of the attack and he might even learn of her abduction. She wondered if he would tell the prince. And if he did, would he care enough to come after her? Instinctively, her fingers closed around the ring she wore around her neck - the one Arthur gave her. Thinking of Arthur never failed to make her heart ache. When he sent all those letters with Merlin, it had taken all her self-control not to open them. They had no future together and prolonging any sort of connection between them was completely foolish. For a month, he sent her letters every time Merlin returned to Ealdor. She faithfully returned them unopened. Then Merlin returned with no letters and although she spent that night sobbing into her bed, she told herself it was for the best. Two weeks later, a travelling merchant told Hunith the prince was engaged. 

“Move faster!” The sword poked into her back and she stumbled forward. “We’re almost there.”

There was apparently a large cave. Roughly, one of them shoved her into the cave and ordered her to sit down. The leader, a large man the others called Hengist, examined her closely. She kept as still as possible, still determined not to show any fear. 

“You look healthy enough. I’m going to untie your hands but you make one wrong move, and we will run you through with a sword. I have men watching you everywhere.”

“What do you want with me?”

Hengist laughed cruelly. “For now, you can be our servant. We’re hungry.” The ropes around her wrists were loosened. “Go cook us something to eat.”

+

Two days of searching and there was no sign of Guinevere. The bandits had covered their tracks well. 

“Arthur,” Merlin placed a hand on his arm. “You need to rest. You’ve not slept for two whole nights. We haven’t slept for two nights. We cannot go on like this.”

“I need to find Guinevere.”

“So do I but exhausting ourselves like this isn’t helping.” Merlin gestured to the knights, most of whom were sprawled on the ground, eyes closed.

“Fine, you all rest then. I’m going to walk around here and see if I can find anything.”

“Arthur. Don’t be foolish. We’ve covered this area twice already.” 

He lost it. “Do you expect me to sit here and do nothing when Guinevere is god knows where? What if she is in danger? What if she - what if -” What if she was dead? But he couldn’t say the words. Suddenly, all the energy drained out of him - whatever had kept him going the past two days vanished - and he collapsed to the ground. 

“Get some rest. We’ll continue searching the moment the sun comes up.” 

The third day was just as fruitless. And so was the fourth and the fifth.

“We are out of supplies Sire.” Sir Boris said almost apologetically. “Perhaps we should be headed back to the castle.”

Face drawn and eyes bleak, Merlin nodded. “She would never ask you to neglect your duties for her.”

That was true. With a heavy heart, Arthur blinked back his tears and gave the order to return. 

Mithian was waiting in the courtyard when he returned. She took one look at him, hugged him then walked him to his chambers, saying nothing at all. Instructing his manservant to prepare a bath, she took his bag from him, then helped him remove his shirt.

“She’s gone.”

“What was her name?”

“Guinevere. The bandits took her and I couldn’t find her.”

Mithian cupped his face gently. “You did all you could. I know you would have.”

“It’s not enough, is it?” 

Slowly, she sat beside him on the bed. “You loved her. She was the reason you never want to talk about Ealdor.”

“She loved someone else. I wish -” Then the tears he had been holding back for day finally found their escape.

“Oh Arthur.” Mithian held him for a very long time as he cried for Guinevere. 

+

Three days she spent at their beck and call. Cook food, start a fire, gather wood - everything they wanted, she did. They moved often from one cave to another. She kept her head down and worked quietly. Every day she was obedient and didn’t do anything suspicious, they trusted her a little more. 

As they walked to yet another cave hideout, Gwen noticed that there were small patches of foxglove growing around the cave. They no longer tied her hands when moving so it wasn’t very difficult for her to grab some and hide them in her bodice. A plan formed in her head.

As expected, the bandits tucked into their dinner with enthusiasm. According to Hengist, her cooking far surpassed theirs. Sitting herself in a dark corner of the cave, she surreptitiously emptied her own share onto the floor. As they traded ribald jokes and stories, Gwen took the opportunity to position herself next to the entrance. 

It didn’t take long. The first bandit doubled over in pain. She didn’t move. She needed to wait for more of them to be incapacitated. Another one fainted. The moment Hengist declared that he too was feeling dizzy, she broke into a run. 

“Stop her!”

She continued to run as fast as she could. Gwen pushed her way through the plants, her dress catching on branches and tearing. The ground was muddy and uneven and she stumbled several times, grazing her knees and hands. But she kept running. 

A branch caught on her necklace and it broke and fell to the ground. For the first time, Gwen stopped and searched for the ring but she couldn’t see it and she didn’t dare stop for too long. Crushed, she continued moving forward. 

+

“I thought we could go hunting today. You’ve told me you are quite the hunter.” Mithian smiled at him. He knew what she was trying to do and he appreciated the gesture. “I know you rather sit around and mope but that’s not healthy and from what you’ve told me of Guinevere, I doubt she would approve.” She passed him the crossbow and he took it reluctantly. 

“Yeah, let’s go hunt.”

Arthur was a good hunter and it did manage to take his mind off Guinevere for a while as they tracked a deer. Mithian kept up a one-sided conversation as they moved through the forest. Then he heard it. Raising his hand, he signalled for everyone to stop moving. In the silence, Arthur listened. 

There was definitely a deer.

Leon suddenly gestured and Arthur saw a gorgeous deer drinking from a nearby pool of water. Perfect, he thought as he lifted his crossbow. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Mithian doing the same. They both let their arrows fly almost at the same time but something spooked the deer who moved. His arrow completely missed it while Mithian’s just grazed it a little. That was enough to send the deer dashing off into the forest.

“That was a terrible attempt,” muttered Arthur as he walked towards the pool of water to retrieve his arrows. Shaking his head at his lack of skill, he bent down to grab the arrow. Something glinted at him. 

He looked closer. 

It was a ring. Curious, he picked it up to take a closer look at it. 

“Guinevere,” he whispered.


	8. Seven

She could no longer feel her legs, her arms bled from all the scratches she suffered through running through the forest and she no longer knew when was day or night. She was probably running in circles. She hadn’t eaten. She hadn’t slept. Her steps were unsteady. 

Her foot caught by a large root, she tumbled onto the hard ground. Stifling her scream, she grabbed her ankle, the pain shooting through it causing tears to gather in her eyes. Instinctively, her hand reached her neck again, attempting to find some measure of comfort, before she remembered that the ring was gone. The thought that she had kept the edges of her mind surfaced amidst her exhaustion and pain - she was going to die in the forest, alone. All the fight drained out of her and she sank into the forest floor.

Branches and dry leaves poked into her flesh reminding her that she wasn’t in her own bed. Something prodded her and when she opened her eyes, she was staring up at Hengist who was holding a sword at her throat. 

“Hello. Remember us? Did you think you could run off so easily?” 

Every part of her ached. “Just kill me,” she rasped harshly.

A slow grin spread across Hengist’s face. “That’s too easy a punishment for you. I have other plans.” 

Without any warning, he reached down and yanked her up. Her muscles protested and she would have collapsed back onto the ground had he not been holding her up with a tight grip of her arm. 

“Thomas, hold her.” He shoved her towards one of the bandits and she stumbled into Thomas who again maintained an iron grip on her arm. She winced but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Probably the latter. Painfully, she tried to keep up with them but really, she was being pulled along. Would they kill her if she refused to move? 

“Knights!” A flurry of activity erupted around her and she was left to fall onto the ground. She recognised the bright red capes of the Camelot knights and wondered if they were here to save her. Had Arthur come to her rescue? The bandits ran.

Someone reached for her and again, she was pulled up and held roughly. 

“We’ve got one of them at least. Maybe she can tell us where they are hiding. Gavin! Come and tie her up.”

“I’m not -” she choked out but even her voice was weak and they ignored her pleas.

“Move. We’re going back to Camelot.”

For the first time in what seemed like a long while, hope filled her. Arthur would be in Camelot. And so would Merlin.

+

“Any news?” 

Arthur shook his head. Merlin sighed then fell into step with him as they walked across the courtyard. 

“She loved the stars. Said they made her feel safe. When we were kids, we would lie in the fields at night and we would imagine that one day, we could visit the stars. The first time I realised I could do magic, I made stars for her in her home.”

Arthur smiled slightly, imagining a young Merlin and Gwen, lying in the muddy fields - because he knew that would be what they would do - looking at stars. 

“I should never have left Ealdor. I should have -”

“Don’t do that to yourself Merlin.” He was one to talk. Over the past few days, all Arthur had done was rehash in his mind what he could have done to prevent this - maybe he should have sent more patrols to that area, maybe he should have ridden harder to Ealdor. All the maybes were never going to bring her back.

“What else can I do? You’ve sent patrols after patrols and they’ve seen nothing. What do you do?”

“I wish I knew. I would give up Camelot to have her safe.”

Merlin gave a bitter laugh. “If only it were that easy.”

+

He was working on some paperwork when he heard the commotion in the courtyard. From his window, he peered down and saw that his knights had returned. Unlike all the other patrols, this time, they had someone with them. A prisoner.

Then he noticed the curls and the lavender dress.

“Get Merlin. Now!” He yelled at the guards outside his room as he ran down to the courtyard. 

“What’s happened?” Mithian ran into him in the corridors and quickly walked beside him. “Have you found Guinevere?”

It felt like forever since he last smiled. “I think so.” Then he laughed and quickened his pace. “You need to meet her. I’m sure you’ll like her.”

Mithian stopped walking. “I’m sure I will. But I’m sure you’d rather meet with her alone first.”

He ran, darting past bewildered servants and guards, his heart feeling lighter than it had in days. 

“Where is she?” He demanded as he approached the knights in the courtyard. “Where is she?”

“Sire! Sir Walter brought her to the throne room. We thought you’d be -”

By the time he flung the doors of the throne room open, he was panting. His heart dropped when he didn’t see her immediately. Instead a whole group of knights stood with some of his council. Breathing heavily, he moved into the room.

On the floor, sobbing on her knees, was Guinevere. 

She was a mess. Her clothes were torn, scratches and bruises covered her arms but she was alive. She was alive.

“Out. All of you get out now.” 

“But sire.”

“Leave.”

He heard the confusion among them but he couldn’t care less. Slowly, they left the room, one or two of them looking strangley at him before taking that final step out of the room. 

Guinevere was still staring at the floor. Occasionally, she would raise a hand to dash the tears from her eyes. As soon as the door shut, he knelt down in front of her. She looked so vulnerable and he was afraid of scaring her.

“Guinevere.” 

Her wet eyes met his. Her lips trembled and then she was in his arm, sobbing into his neck. Immediately, his arms went around her, holding her tightly to him. He never wanted to let her go again.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured over and over again to her. 

When she stopped crying and he was feeling more willing to let go of her, he took her to his room, settling her on his bed. 

“A bath?”

“That would be nice.” She smiled but he noticed it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“I’ll get one of the servants to prepare it for you. Whatever you need, just tell me.”

+

All the pain and the fear from the past few days dissolved as she soaked in the warm bath. It was amazing what a bath could do. Gwen had dismissed the servant who hovered, finding it very strange to have someone doing all the things she could do herself. As she soaked, she took the chance to look around Arthur’s chambers, noting his collection of helmets and the mess on his table. Slowly her eyes began to close and she leaned her head against the edge of the tub and dozed off.

Someone was talking. 

“Are you ok Guinevere? Oh!” The clatter woke her up and she saw Arthur, back facing her. “I’m sorry! I thought you would have finished with your bath by now.”

In her shock, she moved and the water from the tub, now cold and not quite as lovely, splashed onto the floor. “Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -”

“It’s just water. I’ll just go and leave you -”

“Could you hand me a towel first?” Gwen wished she hadn’t sent the servant away, then she wouldn’t be in such an awkward position.

“Uh, sure.” Arthur shuffled a little, keeping his back to her at all times, picked up the towel and attempted to hand it to her, all without looking at her. 

It was completely ridiculous and she was amazed he hadn’t yet tripped over his own feet. She laughed. She hadn’t laughed in a long time and it felt incredibly cathartic. 

“I’m trying to be a gentleman here,” he huffed but she could tell he was smiling.

She wasn’t sure what came over her. Perhaps it was relief that she was alive and well enough. Perhaps it was seeing Arthur again after so many months. But she opened her mouth and said, in a voice huskier than usual, “it’s nothing you’ve not seen before.”

When he tensed at her words, she regretted them. He was engaged to someone else. It was bad enough that she was alone, naked in the room with him. She shouldn’t have flirted with him as well. 

“I -”

Before she could get her apology out, he turned around and held out the towel to her. His arms were trembling but she was pretty sure she was shaking as well, from exhaustion, from the pain, from being so close to him. Slowly, she stood up and he wrapped the towel securely around her without a word. 

Her name escaped his lips in a whisper and she lifted her hand to touch his face. Suddenly, he scooped her from the bath and carried her, still dripping wet, next to his bed. He gently placed her on her feet, then slowly dried her. Her eyes fluttered close. His touch was far from sensual, but it was comforting and safe. Once he was done, he pulled one of his shirts over her, then tucked her into his bed, ignoring her protests. 

“You must be tired.” Sitting on the bed next to her, his fingers traced the scratches on her arms. She nodded. 

“I will punish the people who did this to you,” he muttered as he touched her bruises. 

“Arthur -”

“Let’s not talk about that now. You’re exhausted. Get some sleep. I’ll ask the physician to see you tomorrow when you’re more rested.”

“Where will you sleep?”

He smiled and pulled the bed covers over her towel-wrapped body. “There are many empty rooms in the castle. I’ll get the servants to bring you some new clothes as well.”

“Thank you.”

“No,” he twinned his fingers with hers. “Thank you for being so strong and surviving.”

She didn’t want him to leave, selfish or not. “Can you stay till I fall asleep?”

+

Closing the door, Arthur mentally berated himself. He had almost kissed her there in the room when he wrapped the towel around her. What kind of horrible person was he? He was engaged to Mithian and Guinevere had just returned from a harrowing experience. And all he could think of was how much he wanted her. 

“Arthur! How is she?” Merlin almost bumped into him in his haste. “Tell me she’s fine.”

Despite his disgust at himself, he grinned at Merlin. “She’s fine. Most of her injuries seem superficial but I’ll ask Gaius to look at her tomorrow. She’s asleep right now.” 

“Good. I’ll come by with Gaius tomorrow then.” 

Not wanting to be too far from her, Arthur took the room next to his chambers. Thankfully, the servants had kept it prepared for guests. With Guinevere safe, he hoped he would finally get a good night’s sleep. The moment his head touched his bed, he fell asleep.

Guinevere’s screams woke him up. For a brief moment he wondered what was happening before the memories returned. He dashed next door, past surprised guards, and went to her.

“I’m here Guinevere. You’re safe now.” He couldn’t stand seeing her so frightened. Without thinking, he slipped into the bed with her and held her close, rocking her slightly. He could feel her heart beating next to his. After a while, she calmed down and snuggled into his embrace. 

“Don’t go,” she whispered, eyes still shut.

“I’m never going to leave you Guinevere.”


	9. Eight

Gwen moved into her own room in the castle the next day. Despite Arthur’s insistence, she refused to move to a room hear his. It would have been far from appropriate. In the end, she found herself in a smaller room on the servants’ floor.

“How are you feeling?” A smiling Merlin stood just outside her room. 

“Not too bad. The potion Gaius gave me is really good. I can barely feel any pain now.” She stretched her arms as if to prove her words. “The prince has been really generous with me too.”

Merlin merely raised his eyebrows. “I thought that since Gaius has cleared you from bed rest, we could take a walk around Camelot, see the place.”

It was a brilliant idea. For the past two days, she had been cooped up in her room, told sternly by both Gaius and the prince to rest. The chance to see more of Camelot excited her. After all, she would return home to Ealdor soon and might never return here again. What reason would she have to? A pang shot through her heart at that thought. 

“Grab your shawl and let’s go. I can’t wait to show you Camelot.”

“You must like it here a lot.” The moment they stepped out into the sunshine, Gwen tilted her head up, enjoying the feel of the fresh air and warm sun on her face. 

“I do. Sometimes, it feels a lot like home.” 

Gwen sighed at his answer and slipped her arm through his. It didn’t seem like Merlin was going to be going back to Ealdor soon. Without him, and as much as she loved her village, something seemed missing. 

“And this is our market. Have you ever seen so many stalls in one place before? And you can buy the strangest things here from all over Albion!” The next hour was probably the most fun she had had in days as she and Merlin went round to the various stalls, touched and prodded at all the strange looking knick knacks they had never seen before and got glared at by most stall holders.

“I think this is for the kitchen.” Merlin snatched a round object from a nearby stall and waved it in front of her.

Laughing she shook her head. “What would something like that be used for? It looks like a -”

Just ahead of them stood Arthur and his betrothed, Mithian. Dressed in a gorgeous white dress with intricate details and decked out with valuable jewellery, Mithian looked every inch a princess and next to Arthur, her hand curled around his arm, they looked like a handsome pair. They looked like royalty.

“Do you want to go?” Merlin placed the object back and looked at her with concern. “I’m sorry. I thought he would be at training.”

“Yeah, I’m feeling quite tired too.” 

“Sure.” 

Why she turned back to look, she didn’t know. But she did, just in time to see Mithian brush a kiss across Arthur’s cheek. A dull pain settled in her heart and she quickly turned away and hurried after Merlin. 

The two days she had been in Camelot, Arthur had spent a lot of time with her but they spoke mainly about trivial topics. Often, he would insist on applying the ointment Gaius gave her for the scratches and bruises for her and she would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy having his hands on her. But both of them were achingly aware that whatever they shared in the privacy of her room was only temporary.

Merlin left her at the entrance of the castle, saying he had to go run some errands for Gaius. As she made her way though the castle corridors towards her room, she passed a group of servants chattering happily among themselves.

She should not have tried to listen to them. But when they mentioned Arthur, she couldn’t help herself.

“The wedding should be soon. They’ve been engaged to marry for months!”

“A royal wedding will be so much work.”

“True but it’s so romantic. The princess is so gorgeous.”

As steadily as she could, Gwen walked past them and slipped into her room. It was too painful to stay here and be reminded of what she couldn’t have. She was able to walk with relative ease and with Merlin's help, she should be able to return to Ealdor soon. There really was no reason for her to stay.

+

It was all his fault. 

"She says she hopes to leave this week."

He had been such a coward. Too frightened to talk to Mithian. Too frightened to talk to Guinevere. And now, Guinevere was leaving.

"All that time you spent with her, you never really talked to her."

"I'm engaged Merlin."

Merlin gave him a look, then shook his head. "Fine. Then you should have no issues with her plan. Gaius thinks she should be well enough to travel." Without waiting for a reply, Merlin left the room. 

He slumped in his chair, mind racing. Should he speak to Mithian first, call off their wedding and hope she was generous enough not to allow it to descend into a war between their kingdom? Or should he find out if he even had a chance with Guinevere? The attraction was definitely still there - he felt it, like a living, breathing thing between them, whenever they were together. But she said she loved someone one in Ealdor.

Marriage to Mithian would not be a hardship and it would ensure peace between the two biggest kingdoms in Albion. 

But Guinevere. He loved her so much and his life without her sharing it seemed awfully hollow. For the rest of the night, Arthur sat in his chair, staring out into the stars that dotted the sky and thought. He could no longer afford to be indecisive.

The morning sun shining on his face woke him up. Stuffing his breakfast quickly down, he dashed off to look for Mithian. He had made his decision. Now was the time to act on it. 

“Mithian, can we talk?” As expected, he found her in her room, where she seemed to be studying some papers. When he stepped in, he realised that she was looking at their marriage treaty. Dread filled him. 

“Arthur! Of course. I was just about to look for you.” She stood and gestured for him to enter. “Perhaps you will let me start?”

Warily he sat down and nodded. He wouldn’t be surprised that Mithian had figured it all out. She had shown herself on many occasions to be very quick and observant. The question was what she planned to do knowing that. 

“I like you Arthur and for a few months, I thought we would be able to build a good marriage and a good partnership.”

“Mithian -”

Her fingers pressed against his lips as she shushed him. “Let me finish. Then there was Ealdor. I had my suspicions before because mentioning that village always made you unhappy but I brushed it aside. Now, I know you love Guinevere. I see it in the way you look when you talk about her. I see it in the way you smile after you’ve spent time with her. And I know you are too decent a person to make her just your mistress.”

“Where does that leave us?” Gently, he removed her fingers from his lips and held her hand loosely.

“I think that is your call. I am still willing to go through with the marriage. I never expected love - perhaps just affection - and I’ve known since young that I was unlikely to marry for love. But be honest to yourself, you came here to break it off, didn’t you?”

“I did. Maybe, if there wasn’t Guinevere, we could have made a good life together. I am just hoping that we can part on amicable terms.” He smiled wryly. “I really don’t want a war to start over this, although I have seen wars started for less.”

“If it helps, I feel the same way. I guess we can consider our treaty ended?”

“Your father?”

“I will speak to him. He’ll understand. Eventually. Perhaps you might consider some recompense for your slighting of his daughter?” Humour tinged her voice but he could hear the underlying seriousness.

Arthur laughed. Only Mithian would use this to negotiate for political gain. She would make a brilliant queen one day. “I’m sure we can work something out. Perhaps with regards to the disputed lands.”

She nodded. “That sounds good. We can discuss the finer details later. I expect there is someone else you need to see.”

“Thank you Mithian. You’ve reacted better than I deserved. You’re a better person than I am.”

“I know. Now go before she leaves.”

+

Merlin was with her in her room when he arrived, a small bag on the table, emphasising the point that in a few hours, she was planning to leave. 

“Can I have a moment?”

Merlin said nothing as he walked out of the room, leaving him and Guinevere alone. She seemed flustered and kept moving around until he caught her hands and stilled her.

“Please don’t go.” He had meant to ease into it, maybe tell her he loved her first or that he was no longer going to marry Mithian. But the panic at seeing her pack to leave overwhelmed him. Predictably, her response was to jerk away from him.

“We’ve had this conversation before. There is nothing here for me. Please, just let me leave. I want to go home.”

“Couldn’t you imagine this to be your home? With me?”

“What are you talking about? Whatever happened in Ealdor was a mistake. Look, I am very grateful for all you have done for me over the past few days. But it’s time that we moved on with our lives.”

“I’m not marrying Mithian. And I want to move on with my life. With you.”

“Arthur -” Shock coloured her face and she stopped moving again. “I don’t understand. You broke off your engagement?”

He nodded, then moved slightly towards her, relieved when she didn’t step away. “I couldn’t marry someone when I am in love with someone else.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes and he prayed desperately they were tears of a happy kind. Taking her hand, he continued, “I love you Guinevere. I probably fell for you that night in Ealdor when you told me all the ways I lacked as a prince and what I should be doing. I think of you all the time. I wish you were with me every waking moment. I don’t want a life in which you are not part of it.”

“I can’t.” The words were said in a whisper, her eyes wide.

“You can’t?” She was going to reject him and the reality of it hurt even more than when he imagined it. Then he remembered. She loved someone else in Ealdor. “It was only physical for you was it?” Bitterness seeped into his voice and he could see the hurt reflected in her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. Nothing can happen.”

“Because you love someone else?” He thought he could feel his heart literally break.

She frowned, confused. “Someone else?”

“The man you said you loved in Ealdor?”

“Oh.” She looked away. It was a lie. He fluctuated between anger that she had lied and relief that her heart wasn’t elsewhere. It must mean he still had a chance.

“You lied? To get rid of me?” 

“I had to! Don’t you see how ridiculous this is? You gave up marriage to a princess for a peasant? She could offer you so much. What can I offer you?”

“You could offer me your love. Guinevere, it doesn’t matter that you are a peasant. Not to me. I love you and I will be a better king with the support of the woman I love.”

She shook her head. “Arthur -”

“Tell me honestly that you don’t love me, that you don’t want to be with me and I’ll stop.”

“I can’t.”

“Then stay for a while. Let me court you.” He cupped her face and looked into her troubled eyes. “When I asked you to give up your life in Ealdor to come to Camelot but could promise you nothing, I was being selfish.”

“Are you not asking the same now? What will I do here?”

He hadn’t thought this through at all, he realised with a sinking heart. 

“This is foolish. Will always be foolish.”

“I will visit you in Ealdor. I can’t go very often, not in the state my father is, but I will visit. And maybe you will give me a chance. Then, we’ll see what happens? I want for us to at least try. Please.”

Guinevere said nothing for a long time. He had pushed too hard. He had failed to think about her again.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I just - I love you. But it’s ok if you don’t love me. I’ll leave you to pack. Shall I ask Merlin to return?”

Again she stood quietly. He let go of her hand and turned to leave, his heart feeling like it had just been ripped to shreds. 

“Arthur.”

He stopped but didn’t turn.

“I love you too.”

“Say that again.” His eyes closed and he rested his forehead against the door. 

“I love you Arthur.” 

In a few strides, he was beside her, pulling her into his arms and she was smiling at him through tears. “Oh Guinevere. I love you too. Can I kiss you now?”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

As always, they exploded in each others arms. Clothes were dragged off between kisses and moans and they tumbled into the bed, Guinevere maneuvering them so she was lying on top of him. Her fingers traced patterns on his chest, making him shudder as she placed soft kisses against his jaw.

“When did you know?”

“Hmm?” Her hand slipped lower to his stomach and traced his belly button. He sucked in a breath.

“When did you know you loved me?”

“When you left Ealdor and there was this emptiness in my heart. I told myself I was just being over-emotional. Why would I fall for a prat like you?”

He gasped in mock anger, grabbed her waist and flipped them over. “A prat?”

“Mmm, a royal one too.”

“I think you need to stop talking,” he murmured before covering her mouth with his while his hands palmed her breasts and hips. She thrust up against him, wriggling so that his length was sliding against her wet heat, arousing him even more. 

He pulled away from her, positioned himself then entered her in one swift movement. She squealed, her hands grasping at his shoulders. For a while, he simply enjoyed the feeling of being in her, of being so close to her. 

“Arthur?”

“Yes?” 

“Move. Please.”

He did. His strokes were slow and measured, kissing her as he moved. He wanted this to last. But it was clear that Guinevere had different ideas. Under him, she moaned and writhed, encouraging him to move faster, harder. And when he still persisted, she shoved at him, pushing him to the bed and straddled him.

“You,” she huffed, hair all over her face, “are a tease. And now I, still injured, have to take over.”

He laughed. “Move slowly then.”

That earned him a smack on his shoulder, followed by a kiss and then she was suckling his neck. She did move slowly at first but it wasn’t long before she was moving faster, practically bouncing on him. He reached his hand down to touch her. 

She came, falling onto his chest. His arms tightened around her as he enjoyed the feeling of her pulsing against his length. It didn’t take long for him to spill. 

The sex was good as usual. But the best part, he thought, was having her whisper she loved him when it was all over.

“What do we do now?” 

She giggled, then ran her hands down his body, sending desire flowing through him again. “We could do this again.”

“Guinevere! I was speaking of us, in the future.”

“I know.” The humour drained out of her and she lay down next to him. He took her hand, not wanting to lose the physical connection with her. “I was thinking that I’d go down to the town one day and see if I can get a job. I can sew and I know a little bit of blacksmithing.”

“Blacksmithing?”

“John used to let me help when I was a kid.”

“Huh. What about us then?”

“We’ll see each other? See where it goes?”

Arthur raised himself on an elbow. “I know where this is going. One day, you’ll be my queen.”

She flushed and looked away. “You sound very certain. Who will accept me as queen?”

“I am certain. It may not be easy but I’m willing to fight for it, with you.”

“Every child imagines they will be king or queen one day. I never thought it would come true.”

He lowered himself and kissed her. “I love you. We’ll find a way to make it work. As long as you trust me.”

Her hands twined with his and she smiled. Then he remembered. Jumping up, he grabbed his pants. Attached to his key ring was the ring she lost in the forest.

“Remember this?” He placed the ring in her hand, like he did all those months ago. “I told you then to keep it as a reminder. I want you to keep it as a promise, from me to you, that we’ll find a way to make this work.”

Guinevere closed her fingers around the ring. “I love you too.”


End file.
